


Presents

by primaveracerezos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary presents, Fluff, Harry works too much, M/M, Marriage Proposal, anniversary dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/pseuds/primaveracerezos
Summary: It’s their third anniversary, which means this is the third time Harry is late to their anniversary dinner.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 161





	Presents

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [list of December prompts](https://primavera-cerezos.tumblr.com/post/189432196757). #3 was, “I didn’t wrap it, so you have to close your eyes.” [Edit: Found the link!]
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr [here](https://primavera-cerezos.tumblr.com/post/189465018547/a-little-soft-fluff-for-these-hard-times).

Harry is running late. It’s 8:13, according to the scrolling clock on the tube. The train is stopped underground. His cell has no service. He contemplates sending a Patronus, then dashes the idea as he’s in a metal box of Muggles. Then he reconsiders - counts how many Obliviates he’d have to cast, drafts the letter to Kingsley in his head - then dashes it again. He’ll get there. Eventually. 

It’s just that it’s so cliche, the workaholic late to anniversary dinner with his boyfriend. Harry pictures, again, Draco twirling his salad fork around his fingers, alone at a little table, soup gone cold in front of him, eyes flicking to a nearby window every few seconds. 

It’s their third anniversary, which means this is the third time Harry is late to their anniversary dinner. He was so determined to leave early this year, to be at the restaurant first even, maybe. And now it’s 8:17 and he was supposed to be there by 7:30 and he’s doubtless got four hundred years left on this short train ride. 

The train jerks, stops. Harry’s heart beats fast with hope, which he tries to restrain. He can’t take the disappointment. 

But the train pulls forward again, like an old man standing up from a low seat, and Harry nearly whoops out loud with delight. At least he won’t be a full hour late. 

*****

“Potter. How lovely of you to join me.” Draco doesn’t stand when he sees Harry, as he usually does. He sips his wine, perfectly casual. 

Harry knows it’s an act. He learned a long time ago that unaffected air is Draco’s first line of defense. “Love,” he says, bending down to kiss Draco’s temple, “I missed you. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Draco huffs. “Late would have been a few minutes. I should have just gone home.”

Honestly, Harry is surprised he’s still there. “Do you want to go? We could order in, maybe get some fancy wine?”

“No! No, I’m— It’s fine. Take off your coat, Potter, sit down.” Draco’s cheeks flush just a little. 

Warily, Harry does as he’s told. “Have you ordered?”

“Just a couple of these,” Draco says, nodding at his wine glass. 

The waiter materializes. Harry requests a bottle of whatever Draco has been drinking. Draco gives a small smile and Harry thinks maybe he’s making up some lost ground. Their privacy charm winks back into place as the waiter Disapparates. 

He reaches around the chair into his messenger bag to pull out a slender, wrapped box. Draco’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch - he’s surprised Harry remembered a present, Harry guesses. “For you, love. I hope you like it.”

Draco slips a thin-tipped finger under the wrap at the end and carefully pulls off the Spellotape. This is something Harry loves to watch, the delicate unwrapping Draco does with gifts. It’s like he builds his own suspense, or he’s savoring the joy of getting a present. Harry asked him once, early on; Draco snidely said he was raised to be neat, unlike some people. Harry smiles now, thinking of that (and a little of how those same fingertips feel on him, careful and slow).

Draco pulls the long box from the paper and eyes Harry for a moment before he opens the lid. Inside, resting against black silk, is a necklace. Draco lifts it from the box and holds it up. His eyes, a moment ago shrewdly studying the pendent, go soft. Fourteen tiny diamonds connected with platinum make up—

“Draco,” Harry whispers. The dragon constellation glitters in the light.

Draco himself doesn’t say anything. He traces one finger along the curve of the dragon. He nods, almost as if to himself. Then he unclasps the necklace and puts it around his neck. The dragon falls, as Harry hoped, just beneath the dip of Draco’s collarbones. 

When Draco looks up at Harry, there are tears in his eyes. “I love it, Harry. It’s perfect.” He clears his throat, takes a sip of wine. “I got you something too, but I didn’t wrap it, so you have to close your eyes.”

Harry smiles gamely and shuts his eyes behind his glasses. “What is it?”

He hears Draco shift around, but no answer comes. 

“Draco?”

A beat, and then: “Open.”

Harry opens his eyes to find Draco has moved from his chair to the floor. He’s kneeling beside Harry. Well, he’s on one knee.

Harry gasps. 

“Harry, love. I love you more than—more than anything. More than everything. I feel so lucky every day that I get to be yours. I love every moment with you, even the hard ones. I never want to be away from you, love. I want to be yours forever.” Now Draco’s eyes are really shining, and Harry can’t look away from him. Doesn’t want to. 

Draco reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, black box. Harry can hardly breathe as Draco opens it; two rings sit inside, thin and silver and perfect. 

“Harry Potter, will you—” But Draco doesn’t get to finish, because Harry is hauling him up by his hands, wrapping himself around Draco, pressing their lips together. 

“Yes, god, yes, I will—” Harry says between kisses, madly. 

“Mph, Potter, let me get the question out—” Draco says, but he’s smiling, his hands on Harry’s hips. 

So Harry kisses him again.


End file.
